


Olympic Tryouts (part 7)

by jennamacaroni



Series: Olympic Tryouts [7]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2002185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennamacaroni/pseuds/jennamacaroni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana and Brittany have been rivals in the college hockey world for the past four years.  now they’re both at Olympic tryouts to play on the same team and Boston and Minnesota just don’t get along, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olympic Tryouts (part 7)

**Author's Note:**

> it was hard to find inspiration to keep going on this for awhile there after the Bruins got knocked out of the Stanley Cup playoffs, but i’m back from a long weekend vacation and have at least one part to post today. maybe another tonight if i’m feeling ambitious.
> 
> as always, you guys are awesome. this part has a completely different tone than the others, but we’re starting to get into their backgrounds a bit.

The following two days begin to become routine: early morning conditioning sessions (Rachel has only puked once more since day one) followed up by grueling two-a-days that leave Santana dead on her feet by the time dinner rolls around. She spends most of her free time alone in the film room watching every international game she can get her hands on and the rest pouring over the thick playbook Coach Taylor handed her on the way past his office yesterday evening.

_____

Brittany’s alarm sounds off like a nuclear reactor in the wee hours of Friday morning. With a spastic start and loud groan, Santana flips over in bed and covers her head with a pillow as she hears Brittany rustle and reach to silence it.

“Rise and shine, champ!” Brittany chirps, popping out of bed and flicking on the light before throwing a pillow across the room in Santana’s general direction.

“What the hell is wrong with you? The sun is not even up yet,” grumbles Santana, pushing her hand more forcefully over the pillow and burrowing deeper into the sheets.

“We’re going on a run, get changed,” Brittany orders, rustling through her half of the closet and whistling idly.

Santana’s voice is muffled but defiant. “You need to be committed. Like there is seriously something wrong with you that you want to go running at five in the morning. You do know we have a game this afternoon, right?”

“…and? Whats’a matter, can’t take it, Lopez?” Brittany challenges, crossing the room and yanking the pillow off of Santana, revealing her squinting sleepy eyes and mussed up hair. “Come on, lazy bum, I want to show you something. Plus we both know the extra conditioning can only help us at this point.”

Santana whines loudly before hauling herself out of bed, silently cursing to herself that for some inexplicable reason she already can’t say no to Brittany.

“You suck, you know that?”

“Whatever, get movin’!” she sing-songs happily, scampering across the hall to the bathroom.

_____

“How’s the honker?” asks Brittany, her expression turned serious and eyes trained on Santana who leans over the bathroom sink, pressing gingerly on either side of her swollen nose. Deep purple and blue blood blooms and pools across the bridge, settling darkly at the bottom of each eye socket. Santana tries in vain to dissipate the blood with her fingertips, wincing at the pressure.

“Doc says it’s not broken, so at least my mom will be happy about that,” Santana relents, shrugging. “Still got this gorgeous face,” she croons, slapping on her best megawatt smile.

“You look like a raccoon,” Brittany jokes, turning to look at her own reflection.

“Speak for yourself, Spot,” Santana barbs back, nodding towards Brittany’s own deeply blackened eye.

“I think we look like badasses.”

Santana can’t help but agree, chuckling and letting her gaze settle on Brittany through the mirror as she pulls her hair up into a knot and begins to wash her face.

_____

They’re the only two on the bus this early, sitting side by side in silence for the short journey across town.

The bus drops them at the park entrance, Santana gulping audibly at the large hill ahead leading up into the mountains. The sign to their right is deep red stone and reads “Garden of the Gods”.

“You didn’t bring me out here to murder me, did you?” Santana half-jokes, putting in her earbuds and switching on her iPod. Brittany just grins wickedly over her shoulder and winks before taking off up the hill. Santana feels her a swoop in her stomach before chasing after her.

_____

Although Brittany has a knack for head starts, Santana catches her quickly and has no problem keeping up with her steady pace as they climb higher along the dirt trail, eventually matching each other stride-for-stride as they cover mile after mile through the trees.

_____

As they approach the highest point of the park, Santana spots the first rays of the sun peeking over the horizon to their left before slamming into Brittany who she hadn’t noticed had stopped.

“Ah, fuck! Thanks for the warning, Pierce!” she barks, rubbing at her forehead that just whacked into Brittany’s shoulder blade.

“Well, you should be paying better attention,” Brittany chides, walking off the path with her hands planted on either side of her head, breathing deep gulps of thin mountain air. “Fuck, it’s hard to run in this altitude. Let’s take a break before we head back.”

“How did you know this place was here?” Santana wonders, perching atop a flat rock alongside Brittany and turning to look over the landscape, her eyes tracing each towering rock formation that bursts from the ground, grasping like extended fingers towards the sky. Santana feels like they are the only two people among the acres of open wilderness unfolded before them, the sun continuing its slow climb upward and washing the edges of the sky with soft oranges and pinks.

Brittany’s quiet and lamentful sigh tugs Santana’s attention away from the sunrise and instead to the creases appearing in Brittany’s forehead, the way her lips purse ever-so-slightly into a pained wince and how her eyes cloud with mist. The seconds of silence pull out and lengthen until Santana has to turn away, instead following a hawk twirling and swooping fluidly overhead.

“My mom was a hiker.” It comes out just above a whisper but thick and strained with something Santana can’t place. “She took me here once.” Santana can only nod, turning towards Brittany once more and waiting for her to continue.

“She’s dead now.” The words leave Brittany heavily and settle around them like thick fog as she turns to meet Santana’s eyes, tears pooling and dropping in quick trails with a blink. Santana feels her chest tighten painfully.

“I’m so sorry, Britt,” she whispers, the nickname slipping out effortlessly as she reaches to grab one of Brittany’s hands, squeezing it quickly.

Brittany doesn’t let go.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Santana frowns as Brittany’s bottom lip juts out and her eyes flit upward in an attempt to stop the tears. Her head shakes slowly back and forth before whispering, “not really. She was diagnosed with breast cancer last year. They tried a bone marrow transplant but she died three months ago.” Santana feels a pang deep in her chest at the way Brittany’s usual bright disposition is clouded with sorrow, the tears still dripping one by one down her cheeks and off her chin. She does the quick math in her head: Brittany’s mom must have been too sick to see Brittany’s team win the National Championship, maybe too sick even to see Brittany graduate from college.

Santana can’t help but reach forward to catch each tear with a fingertip.

_____

Neither of them speak again until the sun has climbed high up over the distant mountains and the night is completely chased away with the bright blue sky of day. Brittany sighs and clears her throat before turning back towards Santana.

“It’s tough being away from Pop, leaving him with my little sister. They’re all going through a bad time, but I need to do this, Santana,” she urges, a steadfast look blooming across her features. “My mom wanted this, me playing on this team.” Her voice is thick and constricted and although she sounds sad, her face is clear and determined.

“I’m sure she’s so proud of you, Britt,” Santana whispers, like she’s never before believed something so true.

“I can feel her here,” Brittany pauses. “That’s why I come. Her voice in the wind, her footprints in the dirt. I just miss her,” Brittany’s voice trails off sadly. “Anyways, we better get back and rest up for this afternoon,” she says, clearing her throat and pulling Santana to her feet.

“Okay,” Santana agrees, following her back to the path with one final look over the city laid out below them.

_____

They’re quiet all the way back down the hill, Santana foregoing her iPod and instead listening to the pattern of Brittany’s huffed breathing and the rhythm of their shoes against the dirt.

Brittany closes her eyes on the bus and they’re silent all the way back to campus.


End file.
